Second Chances
by Runaway Fantasy Princess
Summary: Sirius didn't fall through the Veil. Instead, someone used him to fall out. Unfortunately, this person has ties with Death Eaters and a rather unusual tie to a certain Dark Lord. Will the past condemn her or will this be the second chance she struggled to grasp before her cruel punishment?
1. Battle in the Department of Mysteries

Spells were flying haphazardly around the Death Chamber, empty save the lone stone archway and the many battles raging around it. Order members fought against the Death Eaters, neither able to maintain the upper hand. Harry saw none of this. It was like tunnel vision and the only image filtering through was Sirius falling towards the archway. He didn't hear the spells being cast or the shrieks of pain or victory or the taunts being thrown about. His ears were ringing too badly. He might've been screaming his godfather's name but couldn't be sure. Why wasn't he coming out the other side?

"NOOO!" Bellatrix bellowed.

Sirius had all but disappeared, the dark flimsy veil wrapped around his godfather's body like a welcoming friend. On either side of him, peeking out from the veil, were four pale fingers gripping for dear life to the archway. His form shimmered around the edges before he was forcibly thrown to the floor a few feet away. In the span it took for Sirius to hit the ground, the veil shimmered once more as another form followed closely behind him and landed in a crumpled heap not far from where Sirius lay prone. It gasped and retched and shook most violently underneath a pale matted mess.

"Sirius," Harry yelled, now in joy and hope rather than desolation.

"It can't be," Bellatrix screamed in absolute rage. She sounded like a wounded banshee as she shook her head vehemently and repeated the phrase.

Harry sprinted away from the shock-slackened grip of Remus who had been trying to restrain him. He landed beside Sirius, ignoring the pain in his kneecaps from the rough landing on the stone, and rolled the man over. He saw with relief the way his head kept lolling side to side. That had to be a good sign, right? Seizing him by fistfuls of his robes Harry began shaking the dazed man. "Sirius," he called although his face was less than a foot from his. "Sirius, you have to wake up," he commanded.

"H-Harry?" He mumbled, eyes rolling unseeingly.

He couldn't stop the grin from splitting his aching face even if he wanted to. "Yes," he breathed out. The relief of hearing Sirius saying his name melted the unbearable weight that had been crushing his chest before.

"What happened?" The words came out blurry but it looked like Sirius was at least trying to focus his gaze.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "But you're alive and that's all that matters. I thought- I though that Bellatrix…"

At that moment, Bellatrix chose to scream at the top of her lungs, "How are you alive?! I'll kill you, I swear it; I'll kill you!" She raised her wand, her dark eyes glazed over with the maddest look Harry had seen.

Jumping to his feet and brandishing his wand, Harry said, "No! You'll be back in Azkaban before I let you near him. _Stupefy!_ "

Remus was suddenly there and so was Kingsley. They flanked him in attempt to shield the boy. Both men flung spell after spell at the mad Death Eater. She was quickly becoming overwhelmed and sent a killing curse their way so they had to duck to avoid it, giving her time to turn tail and run. Only thinking about how she almost – it pained him physically to think it – killed Sirius, Harry ducked behind the men and chased after her.

"Harry, don't," Remus called after him but it was too late. Harry was gone, hot on Bellatrix's heels.

"I'll go after him," Kingsley declared then gestured to Sirius. "You take care of him." Unable to argue, Kingsley was a fully trained Auror after all, Remus nodded and went to his best friend's side.

"Harry," Sirius groaned, trying to push himself into a sitting position.

Instantly Remus was pushing him back down. "Easy there, Pads." He didn't know what had happened to him but he was pretty sure that Sirius was unfit to go chasing after a duel.

"Moony?" Sirius asked as he stopped struggling against Remus's steady hands. "Where's Harry?"

"He-" He stopped short to gaze around the room. Dumbledore had roped the defeated Death Eaters in the middle but there was no Dumbledore to be seen. He assumed that the great wizard had gone to help Harry so to Sirius he said, "he'll be back soon."

A noise erupted from Remus's right drawing his attention to the crumpled heap of a person that had fallen silent some time ago. Glancing down at Sirius to make sure that there were no fatal injuries in need of attention, Remus crawled over to the heap. His hand paused over the highest point of the heap, caution suddenly seizing him. He had no idea who this was, if they were dangerous or even human.

In a voice raspy from disuse, the mysterious newcomer hissed out a few choked syllables. "Lu. Loosh." The newcomer erupted into a fit of coughing that racked their entire body so hard that they came up off the ground. Once finished, they collapsed back onto the floor and didn't try to speak again.

He patted what he guessed was the person's back. The lumpy thing covering them turned out to be hair, hair so matted nightmarishly that it was nearly impossible to discern as such, and he felt a ping of revulsion. "It'll be okay. Hush now," he urged as he moved to pat the elbow that stuck out awkwardly instead.

The person shifted onto their side, panting from the effort, and sluggishly moved the hair from their – her – face. Remus scanned her length and noticed that the dull yellow and green plaid dress had probably gone out of style about the time he was born. He thought absently that his mother might've worn something like it as a teenager. Hesitantly he moved the strands of hair that clung to her face behind her ear then grimaced at the evidence of vomit on her chin. He settled back onto his heels, taking the time to examine her. Her features were pointy and aristocratic and the distant familiarity about them itching at his brain. She was deathly pale and even skinnier than Sirius had been after escaping Azkaban, cheeks sunken in and lips chapped painfully. Her lavender colored eyelids fluttered open two or three times to reveal grey eyes that once again whispered a faint recognition. He couldn't place her though so he pushed it away.

It was Mad-Eye Moody that interrupted his quiet contemplation. Supporting a half unconscious Tonks against his side, he hobbled over and plopped down with a huff. "Alright there, Lupin?" He grumbled after making sure that Tonks's head didn't smack the stone as he set her down.

He nodded mutely then glanced at Sirius who was sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. They made accidental eye contact and Sirius offered a lopsided grin. "Didn't scare you too bad, did I there, Remus?"

Again he shook his head. "You're alive and that's all that matters, Pads." Mad-Eye gave a snort that could've either been in agreement or contradiction but Remus didn't feel like inquiring further.

The electric blue orb that served as Mad-Eye's magical eye swiveled to the heap of plaid and matted hair that Remus assumed had once been blonde. His lip curled in a sneer. "Who's that? More Death Eater scum?"

"I'm not sure. She pushed Sirius out of the way," Remus explained to the best of his ability.

Sirius's face scrunched in confusion. "Out of the way of what?" Remus merely gestured to the archway, the flimsy material still rippling ominously despite there being no breeze. Realization dawned after a moment and then his face went ashen. "Oh," he said quietly looking at his boots.

"Is she alright?" Remus asked, gesturing towards Tonks.

"She'll be fine," Mad-Eye said, looking down at his fellow Auror with a gruff kind of admiration. "She's tough."

"She can hear you," Tonks said blearily. The three men just laughed. Well, Sirius barked, Remus chuckled under his breath, and Mad-Eye kind of grunted. Still, it felt good to laugh.


	2. Initial Interrogation

Two days passed since the incident at the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort had escaped, terrifying as a thought as that was. Fortunately all of the Death Eaters involved in the incident, including Bellatrix, were captured and now awaited trial. Sirius had been given a full pardon after a long, er, discussion between Dumbledore and Minister Fudge. He was now relaxing in his childhood prison at Grimmauld Place with Harry, Remus, and a few others. He was just glad that was alive after learning that he simply would've disappeared in that arch had he fallen in. Everyone was thankful that their side had suffered no casualties.

Not all was well though. Of course they were all still elbow-deep in the war. There was constant planning and arguing and dead ends that had most of the Order on edge. On top of that the person that had kept Sirius on the correct side of Veil wasn't meant to come out with him. Dumbledore had given strict instructions to keep her contained under constant supervision. Though no one voiced it, they could tell that he was afraid that she would escape. This was enforced when he had been the one to bind her himself. Before he had left, he had made it abundantly clear that no one was to know about her, strictly Order business, and that he was to be notified the moment she awoke.

To Harry it all seemed rather strange. Shouldn't they be thanking the person that saved his godfather? Hermione of course was against harboring a POW. She tried to rally the Weasley children onto her side. None of them thought it was a good idea to go against Dumbledore's "better judgement". Secretly none of them were brave enough to cross Molly who was just as wary of the new houseguest as the other adults were.

Tonks had been the one guarding her bedside when she awoke. It was with a slight whimper as she was tentatively testing the ropes binding both her wrists and ankles.

"Wotcher," Tonks greeted softly. She offered her best reassuring smile. "Careful with those. You don't want to hurt yourself."

The woman's features twisted into absolute terror right before she opened her mouth to unleash a scream. This was no ordinary scream, oh no. The sheer volume was inhuman. The pitch was so high that the vase on the bedside table shattered. Tonks clutched at her ears but it was no use. Blindly she stumbled from the room slamming the door behind her. The barrier did little to muffle the drawn out scream. The portraits, including Sirius's awful mother, were in an uproar. They dashed between frames clutching at their ears like she was with their mouths open in shouts that couldn't be heard.

Tonks could care less about the portraits though because every silencing charm she knew of proved as effective as a spoon with a hole drilled in the middle. Giving up she fell against the wall arms curled around her head. She nearly cried in relief seeing a very cross Molly barreling down the hall with Remus and Sirius on her heels. They, too, had their hands pressed over their ears.

"What happened?" Molly shouted.

Tonks was more reading her lips than anything so she pulled the older woman down to her level to place her mouth against her ear. "I don't know! She woke up and now she won't stop." Tonks's hair had gone from its usual bubblegum pink to fire hydrant red.

After a few flicks Remus stared down at his wand in horrified amazement. "It's no use," he said panic leaking through, "nothing is working." Tonks's hair shifted from red to a sickly shade of green as she resumed her defeated fetal position.

Growling under his breath, Sirius barged through the door and stomped over to the bed. For the briefest second there was absolute silence. Dirty and dusty blonde hair an absolute rat's nest framed her flushed face. Her grey eyes revealed absolutely clarity of mind. Then she threw her head back and wailed, thrashing against her binds like a madwoman. The wail continued rise into her previous scream.

"For the love of Merlin, woman," he shouted as he stood over her. "Get a hold of yourself!" He reached done and slapped her so hard that there was an instant handprint on her pale skin. Silence reigned once more.

She moved her head back the mere inch the hard slap had forced to glare up at him. Sirius thought he had won until she spat at him. He would've been offended except he was to preoccupied by the sizzle coming from where her saliva had landed. He yelped as smoke rose up and uncomfortable heat bloomed across his chest. In his panic he clawed at the spot but it did nothing to help his situation. It was Remus who came to his rescue, ripping buttons off in the process of removing Sirius's shirt.

Everyone was stunned. They didn't know what to do beyond panting air that was much too thick. None could tear their eyes from the bound woman on the bed who glared hatefully at each of them of them in turn. Remus felt dread in the pit of his stomach as he remembered worrying about how human a person could be after coming from the other side of the Veil.

"Leh," the woman rasped. It turned into two harsh coughs. She swallowed hard before continuing. "Let. Me. Go." Each word obviously pained her. It sounded like they had to pass over sandpaper to escape her throat. Nobody moved to release her so she yanked her elbows in then slammed the headboard against the wall then snarled, "Let me. Go!"

Tonks shook her head woodenly. "We can't. Only Dumbledore-"

"Dumbles," the woman whined. In a steady rhythm she began throwing herself back hard enough to slam the headboard into the wall. "Why? Him? Why? Him?" She her face pinched, refusing to look at any of them, too lost in her own despair, as she maintained the rhythmic banging.

Wincing every time her skull smacked into wood, pity settled over Remus. He decided that he couldn't stand to watch this anymore. He moved forwards to grip her arms. "Stop. Please, stop," he ordered gently.

Surprisingly, she obeyed. She had flinched at his touch but the moment he had spoke her eyes had shot open, recognition and confusion shining in them. He gave a small sigh of relief.

"Moony, mate," Sirius piped up, shifting in an uncharacteristically nervous fashion. "Should you be that close. You saw what she did," he reminded. In case he forgot, Sirius gestured to the irritated red area on his bare chest as if to prove his point.

He straightened to say to his friend, "she's scared. Anyone in their right mind would be."

"That's the question, isn't it?" Sirius quipped darkly.

The maternal bone within Molly rattled. She took a minute to really look at their houseguest for the first time. The handprint Sirius had left not distracting from the dark circles under her eyes or the finger shaped bruises on her jaw and throat. She was absolutely filthy and far too skinny to be healthy. The woman was about Bill's age, which only made it worse.

"The poor dear," Molly murmured, wringing her hands in her apron. She leaned forwards from her spot in the doorway, a tentative smile playing around her lips. "Thirsty, dear? Want a cuppa?"

The woman hesitated, her gaze darting from Molly to Remus to Sirius standing in the far corner of the tiny room then back to Molly. She licked her cracked lips the whispered, "Wah-water. Please." Molly grinned then bustled off to the kitchen, dragging Tonks behind her, glad to be of service.

Sighing, Remus took a seat on the edge of the lumpy mattress near her hip. She shifted a few inches away. He didn't blame her wariness. He rested his elbows on his knees hem let her clasped hands hang between them before looking at her again. "I'm sure you have questions." He waited until she nodded twice. "You understand that we have some question of our own?" Again she nodded albeit reluctantly. "How about this? We," he gestured to himself and Sirius, "will go first. If you answer honestly then you can ask a question and we will answer honestly. Alright?" Again she nodded. "Alright. What's your name?"

She bit down on her bottom lip then winced as her teeth caught the splits. Some looked to be from dehydration but there were two that were obviously from blunt force. "Rocks…anne."

"Roxanne what?" Sirius barked out impatiently. His surly expression marred his features as he did nothing to hide the fact that he wanted nothing to do with her. Remus made a subtle placating gesture.

Her gaze darted to the left. "Roxanne G-Gaunt."

Sirius raised his brows then shrugged when Remus looked to him for clarification. He knew that Gaunts were listed under the twenty-eight pure-blooded families but he never actually met one.

Remus nodded slowly then dipped his chin to Roxanne. "Your turn."

"What." She stopped and inhaled deeply before releasing it through her nose. "What year is it?"

"1995," he answered easily. He was not expecting the hitch of her breath and the way her eyes watered. "What year are you from?"

She hesitated then said, "I wah-was born in nineteen f-forty-eight. I was banished through the," she stopped here to shudder, "- the Veil in nineteen seventy-six."

Molly chose to walk in at that moment, glass of water in her right hand. "Here you are, dearie," she said cheerfully. She pressed the rim to Roxanne's cracked lips. The younger woman drank a few spare sips then turned her head away whispering her thanks. Molly set the glass down where the vase had been that morning. She wiped her hands on her apron then declared, "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

"Thanks, Molly," both Remus and Sirius intoned.

Once the matron had left, Roxanne swallowed thickly then asked. "Please. Is my, is my little brother still alive? Lucius Malfoy the second?"

"You're a Malfoy?" Sirius exploded. He threw his arms up. "Well that settles everything. Might as well cart her off to Azkaban now."

"Padfoot," Remus drawled in a warning tone.

"Yes," Roxanne said suddenly. "I am a Malfoy. That is, until I was married. And for the record that was a question that I answered honestly so I get another question: is the Dark Lord still in power?"

Sirius opened his mouth to argue but Remus quickly cut him off. "In certain ways. He's returned from the dead and is now trying to gain control again."

She threw her head back into the headboard and unleashed a rather colorful string of swear words. Once she was finished she scoffed. "I had been hoping Dumbles had finished him off. I guess I should expect disappointment from that man by this point."

"You shouldn't talk about Dumbledore that way," Sirius growled. "He's the greatest wizard that ever lived."

"If you say so," she murmured, studying him out of the corner of her eye. Despite the haunted looked and gaunt stature, he did look a bit familiar.

Remus wordlessly offered her another drink. When he set the glass down he asked, "What is your affiliation to Voldemort?"

She raised a pale brow at this to hide the the fact that she was biting down on her tongue. "I'd rather not answer that. Though I do commend the fact that neither of you flinched at that ridiculous name."

"Ridiculous?" Remus echoed, also quirking a brow. "How so?"

"Another question, please," she sighed.

Sirius ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "Why were you banished?"

There was a mischievous glint in her eyes as she replied coyly, "because of my affiliations."

"That doesn't really answer the question, does it?" Sirius growled at her.

"If you really want to know, ask Dumbles. He's the one who convinced the Minister to put me through the Veil of Death without trial," she hissed. "I was willing to betray my entire family for his damned cause and that's how he repays me! I did betray them. Especially my husband but for him I feel no guilt. He surely doesn't have any for what he did to me." By this point she was muttering to herself, glaring at the binds around her ankles. She seemed to suddenly remember that she wasn't alone and turned her glare to the man in the far corner. "So, forgive me, Messer Black, but I have my reason for not holding your precious Dumbles in such high regard."

There was a missed beat and then Sirius said, "I don't believe you."

She laughed, cold and sardonic. "Get in line."

"That's enough," Remus finally intervened. "The two of you arguing won't solve anything."

"How did you know my name?"

Roxanne all but flinched then nervously tugged at her bindings. "What?"

"How did you know my last name?" Sirius repeated slowly, stepping closer. "You called me Messer Black. How did you know that was my last name?"

"I knew your parents," she said at last. "Not well but I knew them. Plus, the family resemblance is fairly evident. Your lot always were the dark, good-looking type." She shrugged as well as she could with the position of her arms.

He sneered at her. "They aren't and never were _my_ lot. I'm no pureblood supremacist."

Unexpectedly a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "We're in the same boat then I see. I never really saw the point, hard as my father tried to impress that upon me. In fact, my-" She stopped short. Her eyes widened comically. "That wench slipped me truth serum? You slip me truth serum under the guise of kindness? And you call us Slytherins underhanded. It's a damn good thing I've built an immunity-" Cutting off again, she growled a few choice words under her breath then flicked her wrist, the glass on the bedside table tipping over then rolling off. It broke upon contact with the floor. "This, whatever this is, is over. I'm not answering any more questions until I'm free." She yanked at the ropes to accentuate her point.

"You're not in a position to be deciding terms," Sirius pointed out.

"No, that's enough for today," Remus said getting to his feet. "She's not going anywhere. I'm sorry for upsetting you, Roxanne."

She glared at him, the hate returned. "Are you really?"

He nodded once. "Yes. We'll be back later. Come on, Pads." Grabbing him by the arm he steered his reluctant friend towards the hall. Softly he closed the door behind them.

As soon as she heard their footsteps fade away, Roxanne titled her head back and allowed the tears to come forth. She had always been a private crier and this time was no different. Tears slid down her face leaving tracks in the grime as quiet, controlled sobs escaped her parted lips. If she had known she would be trading one manipulative hellhole for another, she would've stayed in the Veil.


	3. Clean

The next visitor Roxanne had came a few hours after the Veritiserum revelation and he was much less welcome than the ones that came prior. The first thing he did was to enter without knocking. Yes, she was technically their prisoner. Did he have to ignore etiquette though? She didn't have time to wipe the remnants of her tears before he was casually sitting in the plush chintz chair he had conjured.

"Mrs. Gaunt, it is good to see you again," he greeted with an amicable nod as if they were sharing a civilized conversation between old friends.

She sighed, tugging at the binds around her wrists. "I wish I could say the same, Dumbles," she said calmly.

"Mrs. Gaunt, there is no need to be confrontational," he admonished. He peered over his half moon spectacles, blue eyes twinkling infuriatingly.

Roxanne rolled her eyes. "I believe it was you who set the tone, sir." She yanked at the ropes hard enough to make the headboard protest. It was as if to say, "exhibit A". Smiling in a placating fashion that did anything but placate her, Dumbledore said, "A warranted precaution."

Her fingers, which had gone numb hours earlier, twitched. "How about you let me go and we'll call it even, hm?"

"I can't do that," Dumbledore declared softly in his airy, wizened voice. "I'm afraid I no longer trust you, Mrs. Gaunt."

She scoffed. "Come out and say it. You think I'll try to escape. Where am I to go, Dumbles? Certainly not back to him." Again she scoffed. The only other place was with her family but it was likely they were either all dead or imprisoned from what Black had said earlier.

He gently stroked his long silver beard. It had been neither so silver nor so long the last she saw him. "He is his husband," he reasoned.

"Not by choice."

He sighed. "Mrs. Gaunt-"

"Please, please, please, Dumbles," she said through gritted teeth. "Don't call me that. I despise that title."

"Would you prefer Dark Lady?" He offered, still stroking his beard.

She glared at him now and spat, "now you are just being cruel."

There was a long moment where both refused to break eye contact. "Roxanne," the wizard drawled. She gave a curt nod for him to proceed. "I still can't trust you. I can't grant your freedom as you wish." His gaze was pitying, as if he weren't the sole person to be able to do exactly that. That was just how Dumbledore was she surmised.

Still refusing to back down, she asked, "then what do you plan of doing with me, Dumbles? Kill me?"

"No, no, certainly not that," he said with a shake of his head. "I am not Tom."

"Change my memory then? That would be degrading. Not even Tom would do that." She knew that Dumbledore had a penchant for altering memories of those he didn't wish to kill but wanted out of the way. She'd seen it. She wouldn't put him above doing the same to her.

Again he shook his head. "No, not that either."

"Then what?" She was getting agitated. "Keep me in this bed until I waste away? Because that is so much better than getting it over with quickly."

He stood, wand in hand, and she feared that she might've lost her temper too quickly. She could fight off a memory charm. Her Occulmency shields were strong enough to hold him off. A killing curse though? Torture curses? Those weren't so easily dismissed.

He waved his wand over her body three times and the ropes vanished. She sat up slowly, rubbing the friction burn around her wrists as she watched him in high suspicion. The ugly red marks faded under her touch. "I'm waiting for the punch line," she admitted.

"I'm giving you one chance, Roxanne, and only one." His hand delved into the folds of his robes, presumably to put away his wand.

She thought that odd but made no comment. "Is that so? I guess thanks are in order then." Her lips pressed in a line. She was reluctant to thank the man that betrayed her, sentenced her to death, and then held her prisoner for however as short of a time it was.

Before she knew what was happening, a flash of silver snaked through the air to encircle her ankle. Reaching down she threaded her fingers in the slack between her and Dumbledore's hand. She gave two sharp tugs then felt along the cuff to find no seam. There was question in her mind that this was an enchanted chain, one designed to be impossible to escape. They originated in a Slavic country that probably no longer existed by an extinct race Roxanne didn't know the name of. They never released their victim unless the one who was responsible removed it personally of his own free will or died. She doubted Dumbledore had any plans to die soon.

"I presumed that you of all people would appreciate this particular artifact."

"Yes, very clever. It must've been very hard to find," she agreed, still tugging futilely at the chain. She looked up at Dumbledore and cocked her head to the side. "But now you're just being cruel again."

He smiled that damnable placating smile. "I assure you, Roxanne, that cruelty was not my intention."

"If you say so," she said, keeping her stony gaze on him as she scooted back to rest against the headboard.

He gave a small chuckle. "Come, Roxanne. I believe that a bath is in order."

Sighing, she obediently slipped off the bed. The moment she was supporting her full body weight entirely on her own, her legs gave out. They were not accustomed to doing what they should after such a long period of disuse. She reached out blindly and managed to catch the offered arm of Dumbledore. He helped her stand but she had to lean into him heavily. Maintaining his perfectly serene expression, he patted her lightly on the back then led her out into the hall. Honestly it sickened her stomach that she need his support to do something as basic as walking but that was the truth of it: she needed him and his support if she was wanted to make it out of there alive. If she wanted freedom she would first have to accept her imprisonment.

He continued down the hall at a leisurely pace. By the time they made it to a bathroom, Roxanne was embarrassed by the fact that her breathing was a bit heavier than when they began only a few dozen meters ago. She tried to reign it back under control as Dumbledore deposited her on the lip of the copper tub. Idly she watched his end of the enchanted chain connect seamlessly around a few pipes.

He left then. Roxanne didn't know when he intended to return so she fiddled with the knobs until steaming water began pouring into the tub. When there were a few inches in the bottom she shut the water off and carefully turned on the lip to dip her feet in. She hissed at the prickling sensation rushing up her legs at first. Soon they subsided and relief filled its place.

Taking a nearby bar of soap from a tray, she sniffed it then gave a mental shrug before lathering up her legs. They were filthy. She was filthy. It wasn't surprisingly considering her last few months before the Veil. The few inches of water quickly became discolored from grime. She rinsed the suds off then pulled her feet out to admire her handiwork. It had been so long that she'd forgotten what her skin color was exactly. She smiled down at the clean, pearly skin.

There was a knock at the door startling Roxanne. Unfortunately her wet hands couldn't find grip on the lip she had been balancing on and she went tumbling backwards. Pushing herself up on her elbows she sighed and pulled her legs onto the floor with her. "Enter."

She was pulling herself back onto the lip when the door finally opened. A pink haired witch studied her wearily as she closed the door behind her. They didn't say anything for a while.

At last, bending to pull the plug, Roxanne said, "I know you. You were there when I awoke." Settling into a twisted position she watched the grimy water disappear down the drain.

"Yeah, that was me," the pink haired witch replied. "That was some scream, by the way. You've got a set of lungs on you."

Roxanne straightened to raise a pale brow at the other witch. "Thank you?"

She gave an unsure smile. "My name's Tonks. You're Roxanne?" She inquired politely, setting down a bundle of cloth on the sink counter.

"Yes," Roxanne confirmed turning back to replace the plug. She twisted the knobs and watched as steaming water rushed out of the spout once more.

There was an awkward beat that she could see Tonks shift uncomfortably. "Do you, um, need help undressing?"

Relieved that she wasn't the one to ask, Roxanne offered a bare smile. "I do, actually. I'm having trouble standing, you see. I've yet to get my sea legs back."

Nodding, Tonks came over and pulled Roxanne up by her forearms. The blonde resigned herself to hanging off the shorter witch's shoulder as she reached around and behind Roxanne to undo the buttons. It was easy to shrug off after that along with her underwear but the bottoms and the dress were both caught around the chain. Mentally cursing the enchanted chain and Dumbledore for putting it on her, Roxanne gripped Tonks's forearm as she stepped into the tub. The chain came too, hanging over the lip and dipping into the water. It made a dull scratching noise as it skittered across the copper bottom.

"Would you like help washing or do you want to do it yourself?" A clearly more relaxed Tonks asked.

She shook her head. "I can manage. Thank you though." She reached for the soap once more. As she lathered it in her hands she distinctly noticed the other witch's presence. "Did Dumbles tell you to stay in here with me? Does he think I'm going to slither down the drain?"

Tonks shrugged and slumped forwards into what must've been a more comfortable position on the closed loo. "He said we had to keep an eye on you," she replied simply.

Though she didn't like the idea of having a babysitter, Roxanne accepted this as part of her time in the house. She continued washing her body the only thing left was her hair. Reaching back and digging her fingers through the rats' nests, she finally extracted a total of eight bobby pins. She handed them to Tonks who set them down beside the bundle of cloth.

After a quick glance around the bathroom she realized that there was nothing for her hair save the bar of soap. It simply wouldn't be satisfactory with the state her hair was in. She cleared her throat softly. "Tonks? Can I ask for a favor?"

"What's that?" She inquired cautiously, her body language shifting to the defensive.

"My hair," Roxanne began, hand rising to the mess. "Well, you see how it is. Are there any detangling or cleansing potions around that I could use?"

She hesitated a moment then nodded, smiling brightly. "Sure. I'll go ask Hermione and Ginny. One of them's bound to have something."

"Okay," she whispered as she settled back into the tub. Tonks was already gone.

Noticing how filthy this batch of water had gotten, she decided that a fresh one was required if she really wanted to get clean. She drained it and the tub was nearly a third of the way full by the time a knock sounded.

"Enter," she called, less terse than the last time.

A grinning Tonks poked her head in before coming in and closing the door. Balanced in her arms was a small woven basket. "Alright-y, we've got cleansing potions, detangling potions, conditioning potions, a variety of scented skin potions and creams, and a few other things I don't recognize. Most of its Ginny's."

"I'll be sure to thank her whenever I meet her," Roxanne acknowledged as she sat up to peer into the basket. After taking out the cleansing and detangling potions, she made eye contact with the other witch. "Thank you for being so kind to me, Tonks. I know we started off on the wrong foot but surely you understand my position? It was a bit…disconcerting to wake up that way after so long."

She nodded slowly. "I think so. I probably would've been screaming my head off, too, if that happened to me," she admitted.

Deciding to leave the conversation at that, Roxanne opened the bottles. Eventually she asked for Tonks's help. The problem was that there was just so much of it. She had to kneel in the new bathwater just so that Tonks could reach all of it. They ended up repeating the process several times before they were both satisfied with the results. Since her legs still weren't cooperating fully, Tonks assisted her out of the tub then allowed her to hang on as she toweled off another fully grown woman for the first time in her life. It wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. It seemed as though this wasn't the first time for Roxanne so it made it a bit easier.

Wrapped in the towel, Roxanne took Tonks's vacated seat on the closed loo and got to work combing out her hair. It was normally a long, difficult, and at times bordering on painful process. Luckily the potions did their job and the process went much smoother than it would've been had she not had access to them. All the while, Tonks leaned against the wall across from her and chatted away. It seemed that she didn't like silence. She told Roxanne about becoming an Auror, told her about her parents and their forbidden love that ended with her mother being disowned from the Black family, and filled her in on a few things about the Wizarding Wars, the past and the present one. Roxanne combed her hair but listened intently, nodding or making an ambiguous comment when she deemed it appropriate.

Once Roxanne was done, Tonks went to fetch Dumbledore. After a minute of arguing from both females, Dumbledore opened the far end of the enchanted chain, which he gave to Tonks with the very solemn warning to be careful. She nodded conveying the same amount of solemnity but grinned goofily at Roxanne once the wizard had left.

The bundle of cloth that Tonks had originally arrived with turned out to be clothes. The panties were a bit small and slacks were a bit short but a minor enlargement charm from Tonks fixed that. She had ranted for nearly a minute upon discovering that Roxanne had never worn a tee shirt before. Shortly thereafter a barefoot Roxanne exited the bathroom of her own accord, Tonks holding her chain as she led the way to the dining room where Dumbeldore was holding an Order meeting.

"Ready?" Tonks asked cheerfully as the two women stood outside the door that separated them from the Order of the Phoenix. The Oder had only been in its beginning stages when she went through the Veil but the information Tonks had given her made it clear that they weren't the same weak idea they had been all those years ago.

Taking a deep breath and nodding to the other witch, Roxanne breathed out, "Ready."


	4. A Change of Hands

Though the rescue of young Harry Potter had been wildly successful, things had only grown more stressful within the Order. Voldemort, smarting from his defeat in the Ministry, had taken to quick surprise attacks in muggle and low-key magical places. Remus had compared it to a muggle drive-by. Then of course there was their latest houseguest.

As the owner of Grimmauld, Sirius had serious problems with her being there. He didn't want her near him or his godson. He didn't even want them in the same city. They didn't know who she was. Dumbledore certainly wasn't offering up any information. That just wasn't his style.

There was a knock on the door. All conversation ceased as Molly stood to answer it.

"Wotcher," Tonks greeted, more or less nudging her way through. Molly jumped out of the way, muttering under her breath as she took her seat beside her husband. There was something shiny wrapped around Tonks's fist that trailed behind her. She looked over her shoulder with an encouraging smile. "Its okay, love. They're not going to bite." This made every member present very tense.

The woman finally stepped over the threshold, cautious as if every inch threatened perils, legs shaky. Her ruler straight platinum blonde hair reached all the way down to her knees and swayed around her with each step. The faded grey tee shirt she wore that featured a grunge band suspiciously resembled one that Tonks wore a few weeks ago. Below the cuff of her tan slacks was a flash of silver around her ankle connected to the stretch of chain between her and Tonks.

Dumbledore rose and offered a measured nod in greeting. "Nymphadora, Roxanne, I am glad you could join us at last." Tonks didn't say anything in return. She merely smiled and deposited her end of the chain in his waiting hand.

Roxanne followed as slowly as the length of the chain would allow. "Dumbles," she breathed. "Are you certain I should be here?"

"Imperative," he replied, gesturing to the empty chair to his right. Sighing, she obliged and clasped her hands tightly in front of her on the table.

To the rest of the room he said, "Roxanne has made a long and perilous journey to be with us today. I trust that you will all make her feel welcome." Murmurs, suspicious and displeased, sprung up. "That being said, Roxanne musn't leave the confines of Grimmauld Place and is to be supervised at all times."

"I don't understand," Emmaline Vance spoke up. Her dark brow was furrowed over a partial scowl. "Is she a member or is she a prisoner?"

"Neither," Dumbledore said with a shake of his head. "Roxanne is here for her own safety as well as others' and to provide information," he explained, however vague it felt to his Order members.

Sirius snorted. "What information could she provide? She's been dead since Moony and I were sixth years at Hogwarts." He growled out an expletive when Remus stomped on his foot under the table. Dumbledore had told them to keep all the things she had said beside her first name quiet.

Around the table, everyone had become quite stiff. There were only one other person they knew of that had been resurrected: Voldemort. In that instant and in their minds, the slender woman sitting to Dumbledore's right was guilty of a terrible Dark magic.

Leveling a steady gaze on each member in turn, Dumbledore rumbled out, "I believe that she has valuable information left."

"I was there," Roxanne piped up, "when the werewolves joined the Dark Lord's side. It was a combination of fear and theatrics that got him the audience with the pack Alphas but it was the deal he made with each of them that made them say yes. I know the locations to certain safe houses and how to get inside. I have…a knack for predicting his next move."

The contemplating Remus chewed on the inside of his cheek a second longer before asking, "and how do you know this?"

She flicked her eyes to the Headmaster for confirmation. "I am afraid that is strictly between Roxanne and myself," he said with no room for argument. Remus nodded solemnly and he saw more than heard the sigh of relief escape the woman. He'd have to tell Sirius later in case he missed it.

"Well, I think its great," Tonks declared cheerily. "It'll be nice to have another girl in the house."

"Not to mention what it says about the Order of the Phoenix to offer sanctuary in times like these," Roxanne added, flashing a fleeting smile to no one in particular.

Blue eyes twinkled at the half-hearted shrugs and nods around the table. Dumbledore patted one of Roxanne's hands. She pulled away from the physical contact, a pointed look sharpening her features briefly, resting her hands in her lap instead. Acting as if nothing had happened, he continued the meeting in a projected voice. For the rest of the hour Roxanne sat beside the Headmaster mutely. She wasn't submissive although one might think that at a glance. Near no emotion betrayed her face but it was clear that she hung on every word that passed a member's lips.

As the dismissed were collecting themselves, Dumbledore meandered his way over to the last two Marauders. Because he held her chain Roxanne remained two steps behind the grand wizard. "Remus, Sirius," he greeted in turn.

"Dumbledore," they intoned.

"Sirius, I must ask a favor of you," Dumbledore began.

"What kind of favor?" Sirius asked in a polite tone as he glanced suspiciously at his new houseguest.

The old man smiled. "As I am unable to be here everyday, I had hoped that you would take charge of Roxanne's boundries."

He frowned. "What does that mean?" He had a vague idea but he wanted Dumbledore to spell it out for his anyways; just in case he wasn't obligated to what he didn't want to do.

Raising a thin wrinkled hand, Dumbledore held the fine silver chain out for display. "The chain which binds Roxanne to this place can be manipulated solely by the person who put it on her."

His frown deepened. "Why don't you ask Tonks? She seems to have taken to the little Death Eater."

"First off," Roxanne said as she moved to stand beside Dumbledore. "I am not a Death Eater nor was I ever. Secondly, he can't put someone who is fond of me in charge of my leash. They'd let me run off if I wanted. Which I don't." She raised a brow at Dumbledore pointedly then crossed her arms when he responded with a placating smile.

"As I said, I am unable to always be here. Since this is your house, I believe this falls under your responsibility, Sirius." After a long moment a scowling Sirius nodded. "Wonderful! Thank you, Sirius, for relieving me of this burden. Mrs. Ga- Roxanne, if you would please." Leaning back on the table, Roxanne lifted her leg so that her foot was level with the wizard's chest. He tugged the cuff apart effortlessly which seemed to annoy the witch somewhat.

The chain appeared feather light so Sirius was surprised by the weightiness of it in his palm. He looked to Roxanne who was watching him mildly. She let her head fall back and studied the dusty ceiling above as she waited. It was an odd pose and he might've thought she was holding it effortlessly if not for the slight tremble in her limbs.

Wordlessly he wrapped the chain around her ankle. The free end melded into where it met the chain and Sirius was surprised, and a little relieved, by the lack of change. He expected that essentially becoming her master would make him feel different. The fact that he had personally taken away another person's freedom didn't settle with him, yes, but other than that he felt the same.

Quickly, Roxanne dropped her foot and tugged her clothes back into place, pretending that it was a more consuming task than it really was. It was obvious that she couldn't meet the eyes of the three men around her. For Remus, the question was why.

Dumbledore clapped his hands twice. "Wonderful! I shall see you three at the next meeting," he said in his usual serene matter.

"Of course, sir," Remus replied while Sirius gave a curt but respectful nod.

Roxanne hesitated that nodded as well, much slower than Sirius had. "Yes. Goodbye, Dumbles."

"Until next time, my dear," he said with a subtle wink.

* * *

I would like to thank everyone that has read, followed, and favorited this story. I especially want to thank the people that have left reviews. I love reading those.


	5. Bored and Lonely

"Good morning," Roxanne greeted upon entering the dining room.

The faded yellow sundress she wore fluttered about her pale legs as she took a seat. There was a small rumble of reluctant replies around the table. The stranger still put them on edge. Ignoring her blatant unpopularity, Roxanne began taking tiny bites of her jam smeared toast.

After finding Molly alone in the kitchen one night, she had seized the opportunity to confront the woman. Without giving her a chance to explain away or make excuses Roxanne told her that she didn't trust her. She didn't trust her motives and especially didn't trust her around her drink or food. She insisted that she wouldn't eat the Weasley matron's meals in fear that she might be poisoned again. At this Molly tried to apologize but Roxanne had raised a hand to silence her. "I'm not asking for apologies, Mrs. Weasley. I just ask that you don't take offense by my refusal. We don't need to discuss this matter any further." Since then Molly pretended that Roxanne wasn't there for the most part. She was cordial whenever she had to ask a direct question but that wasn't often.

A few minutes later Tonks entered the room with a yawn. She proceeded to plop into the seat beside Roxanne as she rubbed her sleep-crusted eyes.

"Good morning, Tonks," Greeted Roxanne with a bright smile.

Wrinkling her nose over her coffee, Tonks demanded, "How are you so chipper in the morning, woman?"

Roxanne gave a little laugh. "Any day the sun rises as it should is a good day. Is it wrong of me to appreciate that?" She asked, sliding her hair over one shoulder and readjusting the sleeve of the tattered leather jacket she wore.

"At seven in the morning? Yes," the other witch snapped. Roxanne chuckled good-naturedly into her teacup. She found the Auror, normally a group that she didn't take to very well, to be frightfully entertaining. She was funny and quirky and Roxanne doubted that was a malovent bone in the metamorphegus's body.

Once the caffeine started to kick in there was a visible change. Instead of slouched so far down in her chair that she was level with the tabletop, Tonks was perked up with her elbows on the table. Instead of answering with grunts and snippy retorts, she was chatting with Arthur Weasley. At a lull in their conversation Roxanne touched Tonks's arm to get her attention.

"Thank you again for the clothes, especially the dresses," Roxanne began. When the other witch went to wave her off, she shook her head. "No, you don't understand. Thank you."

Over the past three days Roxanne had gone to Sirius five times so that she could change her clothes. Each time was just as embarrassing for her to ask and annoying for him that he had to actually help the other girl. He wasn't mean to her; abrupt, snide, and standoffish, yes, but he was never rough or had outright insulted her since Dumbledore had put her in his care. That didn't mean she wanted to spend any extra time with him whatsoever.

Slowly Tonks nodded. "Your welcome," said she. Roxanne smiled then returned to her toast. That was all she wanted: for her gratitude to be accepted and that was it.

Tonks cleared her throat then said, "I won't be coming back tonight. I've got a mission for the Order." She offered an apologetic shrug.

For a moment Roxanne allowed the disappointment and self-pity wash through her. She stuffed it deep down and turned to the only person that she really interacted with these days. "That sounds exciting. May I ask what you're doing?"

"Surveillance," Tonks said before forking eggs into her mouth. After chewing and swallowing she continued. "Nothing too exciting. If anything does happen, I'll be sure to tell you," she promised, nudging Roxanne.

She chuckled. "As long as you don't go seeking adventure for the sake a good story. Wounds aren't worth that."

This Tonks waved off. "Nah. I'll be with King. He's one of the best in the department. Besides, we're just going to watch Nott Mansion sit there. Most likely, I'll be bored out of my skull." She made a face at this, sticking out her tongue and scrunching her face in apparent dislike for the idea.

"At least you'll actually be doing something," said Roxanne. It was hard listening to people complaining about assignments and work and missions and weather when she no longer had the chance to enjoy those being locked up in the grim old house. She sighed over her plate. Meekly she stood and picked up her plate of half-finished toast to take it to the kitchen.

Later on, Roxanne found herself in the Black family library. Most everyone was gone. Molly was still there, cleaning if she were to guess, and Sirius was tending to Buckbeak last she heard. The house had been quiet since nine and while Roxanne didn't mind peace it proved to be twice as taxing as chaos.

Familiarity embraced her as she trailed her finger over the dusty spines. Books had become a welcome escape from her married life. She plucked a particularly thick tome entitled "A Brief History of British-French Politics" from the shelf and cracked open the cover. Head bent to the book in her arms, Roxanne found a rather stiff divan and curled up on it.

"Of all the books in the library and you choose _that_ one?"

The verbal intrusion disrupted the absorbtion of words and the letters suddenly became jumbled in her brain. She shook her head then lifted it to the person responsible.

Sirius stood at the foot of the divan, hands in his pockets as he stared at her expectantly. Roxanne noticed that there was a feather clinging to his pants. "Pardon?" She had missed whatever he must've said entirely.

He gestured to the book propped against her knees. "A bit of light reading?"

She looked down at it as if seeing it for the first time. "Ah, yes. I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty." Honestly, she didn't care either way. What else did they expect her to do? Help Molly clean? The woman couldn't stand her presence longer than it took her to finish her meals.

He shook his head. "I don't mind. The only people who ever read them are Remus and Hermione," he said with a swat at the air.

"That's very sad," said she. "Books are meant to be read. To be kept on a shelf untouched would be to steal their purpose."

He looked at her oddly. "I suppose," he said slowly.

Carefully Roxanne closed the book with her fingers pinched between the pages to keep her place. It was her turn to look expectantly towards him. "Was there something you wanted, Mr. Black?"

"No, not really. I just saw your, uh, chain." He rocked on the balls of his feet, uncomfortable as usual when it came to the subject of her chain. Gaze darting to the bookcase to his left, he faked a cough. "I saw it and thought I might as well check up on you."

"Thank you for the concern but I'm fine," she said with a polite nod.

He returned the nod. "I see. Well, my cousin was telling me that you were, um, lonely. She was actually yelling at me about it," he admitted with an eye roll.

"I'm assuming that your cousin is Tonks?" He gave another nod in confirmation. "While this is sweet of her, it's not your job to keep me company. Your job is to make sure I'm behaving."

"Yes, well, it was brought to my attention that you'll be less likely to, er, act out, if you aren't miserable." He looked away again. It was painfully obvious that he didn't want this conversation to exist, much less participate in it.

Setting "A Brief History of British-French Politics" on the cushion beside her, Roxanne stood. "I'm not miserable. Bored would be a better word. Or perhaps listless. You don't have to do this though. I understand if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable," he protested.

She gave a small laugh. "You aren't the picture of enjoyment either. It's fine. I'm a stranger intruding upon your home. You see me as an enemy and although I wish you wouldn't, I do understand why." She raised her hands and shrugged a helpless gesture.

He scratched at the back of his next. "I think that I'd be more…comfortable if I knew more about you." The cords of his neck stood out as he strained to keep a straight face. His ears burned and he was grateful that his shaggy hair effectively hid them.

Tucking her yellow skirt under Roxanne sat back down on the divan. She patted the spot beside her indicating that he should do the same. Reluctantly he obeyed. "What do you want to know?" She asked once he had settled.

He coughed again. "You're a Malfoy," he began.

"Yes?" She prompted. Her head cocked making her hair slip across her chest. She pushed it back into place.

"Was Lucius always a little prat?"

The small smile she wore slipped. "I've always been a bit biased when it came to him. He is – was – six years younger than me. You could say that I was protective of him." She gave him a pointed, almost scolding look.

An apology was on the tip of his tongue when Sirius realized with a start that he didn't want to apologize. He wasn't sorry about insulting Malfoy. In fact, he could easily think up a dozens worse insults that would fit the Death Eater more accurately. He shook his head. "You look like a Malfoy, you know. Not exactly like your brother but pretty damn close."

The small smile returned. It made her look less like a Malfoy. Sirius couldn't recall any Malfoy actually smiling; it was always a sneer or a smirk, never a smile. "Thank you," she said.

"That's wasn't really meant….never mind. What house were you in?" He knew better than to incriminate himself.

"Slytherin," she replied easily.

He snorted. "Of course."

Surprisingly she shrugged. "The hat wanted to put me in Hufflepuff but I asked to be put in Slytherin," she said, picking at a loose thread.

"Why?" He wanted to ask "Why the hell would you do that?" But he managed to refrain.

Again she shrugged. "It was expected of me. My father was a Slytherin and my mother was a Gryffindor. It was one or the other and I knew that my father really wanted his child to be Slytherin. I wanted to make them proud."

He shook his head at this in disbelief. When he was a child he had wanted to make his parents proud of him, too. That dream dissolved sometime before getting his Hogwarts letter. He was proud that he got into Gryffindor, the House of the Brave. He was glad that he wasn't like his family. The fact that she felt the opposite boggled his mind.

"May I ask a personal question?" She inquired hesitantly.

He shrugged half-heartedly. "Sure. Shoot."

Her brows furrowed over a bemused frown. "What?"

"It's a muggle phrase. It means 'go ahead'," he explained.

"Oh," she said, looking unconvinced. "Well, I was wondering who Harry was? People keep mentioning him." She had meant to ask Tonks but it had slipped her mind that morning.

A sudden content smile sprang to life, lighting up his handsome features. "Harry's my godson. He's a great kid. Reminds me a lot of his father." A chuckle escaped him as his thoughts drifted towards old memories.

Seeing that for once Sirius was actually happy Roxanne decided it would be best not to disturb it. Slowly she leaned back and picked up her book. The two sat in silence, both off in their own little worlds, until it was much later in the afternoon. When Sirius had excused himself from the room, he flashed her an uncomfortable smile. Roxanne was satisfied with this small step towards cordiality.


	6. Sweet

It was after the third Order of the Phoenix meeting Roxanne had attended that she noticed something amiss with Dumbledore. He hadn't said much this time around and not a single word to her. He had swept into the room at ten minutes past six o'clock without so much as an excuse for his tardiness. Of course no one dared question him; he was a busy man, they would mutter later on, he had his reasons.

What surprised her most was his lack of reaction. He sat there nodding gravely as reports of accidents, disappearances, attacks, and murders were presented to him. He pursed his lips at evidence of a giant's involvement in West Country. Muggles were blaming a hurricane. He sighed at Dememtors breeding. Not that there was much he could do about the Dementors but Roxanne though it required more than a _sigh._ She kept these thoughts to herself though she was tempted to turn to Tonks, who sat to her right, at the last one.

Assignments and missions were simplified to a "continue as you are" for most. A few glances were exchanged between neighbors but again nothing was said in opposition. Sirius was given watch duty with Emmaline Vance. When Roxanne had looked past Tonks and a rather unpleasant ginger by the name "Mundugus", she saw a bright, childish gleam in his eyes and a grin on his face. She had only seen him smile genuinely on four different occasions before this, including the time he spoke of his godson in the library. It must have been infectious because across from him Remus was grinning back. He flashed his friend a congratulatory thumbs up right before he was accepting his lack of duty due to circumstances Kingsley Shacklebolt failed to specify.

"Lastly," Shacklebolt boomed in his steady baritone, "Hogwarts is letting out in a few days. Dumbledore has decided that in addition to the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye, and myself shall escort Harry Potter to his guardians and then follow them back to their house."

When Tonks's name was called, she did a little happy dance in her chair. She stopped, however, when Bill shot her an amused but semi-reprimanding raise of his eyebrow. She didn't mumble an apology and look contrite as Roxanne expected. Instead she screwed up her eyes and stuck out a scaly forked tongue. Bill scoffed under his breath but there was a definite upwards curl to the side of his mouth.

"I want to go as well," Sirius interjected.

Shacklebolt looked to Dumbledore in question. The movement cause the silver hoop earring he wore to catch the light. "Sir?" He drawled.

The seconds stretched as Dumbledore took his sweet time dilberating. Finally he gave the faintest inclination of his chin. "I don't see a problem with this. Sirius, you are welcome to join Kingsley and the others to King's Cross."

The grin Sirius had sported when he got the guard duty assignment was nothing compared to the one he wore now. "Thank you, sir!" He all but chirped.

Meeting adjourned, wizards and witches began chattering or getting to their feet. The commotion blocked Roxanne's view of Dumbledore. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the flash of flashy blue robe; it screamed in the dark, dreary house and sea of black or muted fabric. Quickly she got up to follow him only to be stopped by the cinched metal encircling her ankle. To her dismay, momentum kept her going. Her arms shot out just in time to guard her face from smacking the hardwood floor.

"Rox-? Wh-oa!" Tonks shrieked as she tripped over the taut chain that had gotten tangled in the chair legs. "I'm sorry," the pink-haired witch mumbled, pushing the chair over.

The tug on the chain cinched the part around her ankle tighter. The thin links bit into skin and shallow bone making her hiss through her teeth. Feet first she crawled closer to Tonks to ease the tension on the chain. She tucked her finger in the gap between the metal links and her skin to rub the sting away. Giving the other witch a sweeping observation she said, "Its fine. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Tonks mumbled in a most pitiable fashion. She rubbed her elbow which she must've conked on the way down. Roxanne couldn't help the tiny fleeting laugh that escaped her as she leaned against the discarded chair. An equally tiny bashful smile curved Tonks's plush lips as she laughed, too. It was a little funny.

They both looked up at the two men that stood over their partially sprawled forms. While Sirius made no effort to hide his grin, Remus had the decency to at least try. Hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his shabby slacks, he pursed his lips for a long moment before speaking. "Enjoying yourselves down there?" Sirius snickered.

"Always," Tonks replied. From her prone position she stuck her arm directly upwards. "Now help us up."

Ever the gentleman, Remus immediately complied. She stumbled on her feet right into her cousin who caught her with a wink. Remus then turned to Roxanne who was extracting the chain from the chair legs. Seeing his scuffed shoes she followed up her legs, up the narrow torso that was covered in a dress shirt that was just as shabby as his pants, then finally landed on scarred face. Wordlessly he offered her his upturned hand.

She searched his face for any trace of trick or mockery. In the end she found only benign humor and sincere kindness. Slowly she placed her hand in his dry, rough one and allowed him to pull her up. Idly she marveled at how long his fingers were. They easily encompassed her own.

With a start she realized that she was still essentially holding his hand and retracted it. Clearing her throat she brushed the residue from the floor off her frumpy skirt. "Thank you, sir," she said in a more dignified voice than she felt right then.

He shoved his hands back into his pockets and gave her a polite expression. "You're welcome." He turned over his shoulder to nod at Sirius. Seeming to understand the unspoken message, Sirius planted a sloppy kiss on his cousin's cheek making her squeal in equal parts of mirth and disgust. Remus repeated the polite expression as he excused himself. Sirius was quick to follow.

Resigning that there Dumbledore was long gone, Roxanne righted the chairs while disentangling herself at the same time. Once successful, she faced her friend who was scrubbing at the cheek Sirius had practically licked with her sleeve.

"So," Roxanne began kindly. Tonks stopped with the sleeve long enough to raise her eyebrows, a shade darker than the bubblegum color of her hair, to show that she was paying attention. "What do you think about the Dementors?"

There was an obvious shudder that ran through her body. "Saw one the other night. Not something I fancy doing a repeat of." She shuddered again as if to rid the chill the shadowy creatures were known for bringing.

Slowly Roxanne nodded in agreement. "I'm not fond, either. I was actually wondering what you think should be done about them," she clarified, gathering the excess length of chain in one hand.

"Oh," Tonks said in clear surprise. She scratched at one of the multiple piercings in her ear. "Well, I'm not sure," she admitted at last then shrugged. "Work on my Patronus, I guess."

This wasn't the answer she was looking for. Fiddling with the hem of her dress she let the words sink in. She opened her mouth to say something then shut it frowning a bit. She didn't know how to phrase what she wanted to say without offending her only friend.

Unable to handle the suspense, Tonks rolled her eyes. "What is it?" She snapped good-naturedly.

Roxanne turned slowly expecting Tonks to follow her out which she did. "Is there any way that you could conjure your Patronus while on guard duty? At least at night when Dementors are more likely to attack?" She cocked her head to punctuate the question. The hair that wasn't collected at the base of her neck in a tie floated into her vision. Delicately she brushed it out of the way.

"I'm not sure. Maybe," Tonks allowed slowly. She glanced sideways to see the relief briefly cross the other woman's face. "I'll talk to King about it," she said at last. Roxanne bobbed her head in understanding. Kingsley gave the impression of a considerate man. She hoped he would consider this.

As they continued down the hall, Roxanne checked to make sure there weren't any lingerers. "Tell me about this Harry."

A grin split Tonks's face from ear to ear. "Harry Potter? Oh, he's a right gem! Brave, strong, adorable. He's not crazy or an attention-seeker like the prophet says. In fact, he blushes when everybody starts fussing over him. It is the cutest thing. He's, he's…what are you grinning at?"

Giving a little shrug, Roxanne replied in a sing-song voice, "Oh, nothing. Come on then. Let's sort through those clothes your mum sent over." She urged the pink-haired witch with a prod next to her spine resulting in an indignant squeal.

The two women spent an hour sorting through a sack of clothes in what was now referred to as Roxanne's room. To Tonks's horror Roxanne found that she liked a majority of the outdated frocks and modest dresses. The clothes had belonged to Andromeda, Tonks's mother, who had sent them after her daughter relayed her story. She had been careful telling her mother since she was technically an Order secret, a secret Andromeda wasn't privy to since she wasn't an Order member. Tonks was glad that she had bent the rules though ultimately. She had fun digging through the clothes and being girly with Roxanne.

When they grew bored of that they ventured out to see if dinner was underway yet. Roxanne still refused to eat anything Molly Weasley prepared but Tonks was fond of her cooking. To the latter's delight, the table was already set and platters of food were floating towards it.

Roxanne waited until Molly had vacated the kitchen before slipping in to prepare her own dinner. When she returned with her bowl of chopped fruit Molly called out to her. "Roxanne! There you are! Good, have a seat." Roxanne, shocked by the fact that she was being acknowledged by the woman, froze like the muggles' proverbial deer in headlights. "Sit, sit!" Molly insisted, flapping her hand impatiently.

Heat rising in her cheeks, Roxanne scurried to the empty seat beside Tonks at the end of the table. She felt like a naughty child escaping a scolding. It wasn't something she enjoyed too much.

"Now that everyone's here," Arthur said, prompting the idle chatter to cease. As all eyes turned to him he wrapped his arm around his stout wife. "Molly and I have an announcement. We, with Dumbledore's consultation, have decided to return to the burrow. This'll be our last night here." He gave a little half shrug in lieu of apology.

"We'll be here for meetings and the like," Molly assured the scandalized occupants at the table. There were what appeared to be the beginning of tears in her eyes.

"Its time for us to go home," finished Arthur.

There was a general murmur of reluctant acceptance. They all really liked Molly's cooking and, when she wasn't henpecking them to death, her mothering nature. It was Sirius who raised his glass first. "Here's to Molly and Arthur. For making this," he swiped his arm through the air aimlessly here, "place feel more of a home."

Remus, who was the first to respond to his friend's impromptu toast, chimed, "To Molly and Arthur." Everyone, including Roxanne, echoed him.

You could barely understand Molly's spoken thanks through her tears she was so overcome with gratitude. In Roxanne's opinion she sounded like an injured dog, one of those ridiculously vicious things that barely passed as a dog. Her mother had often cooed over any that crossed her line her line of sight when Roxanne was a child. She thought it was sweet, though, how close these people were; how much of a mother figure Molly was to these insurgents. Very sweet. She even had a bite of the apple cobbler Molly made from Tonks's plate just so she could compliment her work.

The next morning was a miniature kerfuffle as Molly collected the last of her things. Fleur, who Roxanne gathered wasn't Molly's first choice of a fiancé for her eldest son, the poor thing, was over helping. This meant that she went prancing all over the house doing Molly's bidding only to be squawked at for doing it wrong. Roxanne felt for the French girl, she really did. At least Molly ignored her instead of the passive aggressive way she treated Fleur.

Roxanne was relieved when they had finally left. The entire house seemed to settle with one of those collective sighs. Wiping her hands down the front of the woolen jumper she wore, she released a sigh of her own. Resolutely she spun on her heel and marched to the library. There was nobody but her, Sirius, and that miserable house-elf that referred to himself as "Kreacher" so nobody would disturb her.

Finding an armchair that was losing its stuffing, Roxanne pulled it over to a window so she could plop down backwards into it. She wiggled around until she got comfortable then cracked open "A Brief History of British-French Politics" to where she had last left off. That's where she remained, content, for several hours.


	7. Healing Touch

Roxanne was enjoying the last chapter of the thick tome she had in her lap. She knew she was alone in the house, save Kreacher, and was humming to fill the silent void. It was so quiet here, she could hear Kreacher muttering to himself at the other end of the hallway. It was the usual: desecration of his beloved mistresses home, shame of her flesh ruining the Ancient and Noble House's reputation. She didn't pay it much mind.

There was a crash of wood on wood. It was so sudden that Roxanne jumped, sending her book tumbling to the floor. "Kreacher! KREACHER! You miserable elf, where are you when I need you?!" Sirius screamed over the nails-on-chalkboard sound of his mother's portrait.

Abandoning the book where it lay, Roxanne rushed out of the room. She followed Sirius's rather foul expletives to the drawing room. "What, what?" She panted, grabbing the doorframe with both hands. All she could see was Sirius's back as he worked frantically over something. "What in the devil's name is going on?"

He spun around, eyes slightly crazed and blood on his robes. The too familiar sight brought upon memories that seized her tightly around her lungs. She caught a flash of silver splayed out on the carpet beside him. As quickly as the stupor had caught hold of her she shook free of it and hurried over to his side.

Bleeding out on the floor was Emmaline Vane, distinguishable only by her silver curls. Roxanne made shushing noises as a torturous whimper escaped the gravely injured witch. "Mr. Black, what happened?" He didn't say anything; simply stared, mouth agape, at the blood coating his hands. "Mr. Black," she said sharply.

He started then blinked several times before speaking, "We were patrolling the Muggle Ministry and, and, and Emma started screaming. They came out of the nowhere – the Death Eaters. There were eight of them. They had her cornered, the bloody cowards."

As he spoke, Roxanne was brushing her palms across Emmaline's body, eliciting more whimpers as she went. "They used bludgeoning hexes mostly," she muttered mostly to herself. "Lots of internal damage. Some type of cutting curses, too." She moved to hover directly over her so that she was in line of the eye that wasn't swollen. "You sleep, dear. It'll all be over when you wake up. I promise." Emmaline whimpered and moved her head fractionally in defiance. "Sleep," Roxanne insisted. She waved her hand over the witch's face who instantly went limp. She gripped the neckline of the pretty teal dress Emmaline wore under her robes then ripped it straight down the middle.

"What are you doing?" Sirius demanded, averting his eyes from the incoherent witch's now exposed torso.

"Don't ask stupid questions," Roxanne snapped, hands resting over the darkest spots blooming over Emmaline's ribcage. "Call someone, anyone. I need blood replenishing potions and pepper-up. What are you doing? Move, man, move!" Quickly he scrambled across the room to the fireplace.

The green flash of operating Floo lit up in Roxanne's peripherals but she remained focused. The magic radiating from her palms itched then became too hot. She kept going, moving up to cup the battered skull. She started feeling light-headed.

As the Floo lit up again, a new voice joined the buzzing that now filled her ears. "Good Godric! Is that Emmaline?"

"No stupid questions," Roxanne snapped. It didn't come out as strong as before. In fact, she sounded breathless like she had just run from Scotland then back. When she snatched her hands back the skin was blushing brightly and raw in some places.

Throwing his robes off and in a random direction, Remus knelt on the opposite side of Emmaline. "Wha-what can I do?" He asked, wand at the ready.

She smiled absently into his drastically pale face. "Much better question. Start working on her legs. I'm pretty sure the left one is smashed completely. Skin first, then bones." Nodding, Remus set to work straightening the bones. "Mr. Black, the pepper-up?"

"Kreacher!" Sirius barked.

A muffled, creaky voice came from behind a chair. "Master calls Kreacher?" In a mutter the elf continued, "Wretched blood-traitor gets what's coming to her, yes she does."

Sirius made to strike the elf but Roxanne made a disapproving noise that resembled a snarl. "Not the time. The potions, Mr. Black." Sirius relayed the demand and was snatching the vials from Kreacher's gnarled hands half a second later. He all but collapsed in the spot Remus had vacated a moment ago and handed the vials over to Roxanne.

She pulled the stopper with her teeth and spat it out carelessly then downed the pepper-up in two gulps. Casting the empty vial aside in a careless manner one did not normally associate with her, she wiped the remnants of potion from her chin with her sleeve. Before the potion had taken full effect she was cupping Emmaline's skull again.

"Why didn't you take her to St. Mungo's?" Remus said between muttering spells.

Sirius shook his head, waving his own wand over Emmaline's left arm. The limb was bent at a few sickening angles. "We were on Order business. Besides, what about the Death Eaters there? They could easily finish the job."

"Good choice," said Roxanne through gritted teeth. Her brow was drawn in a hybrid of pain and concentration. It felt like the skin was being peeled off from her hands but she knew that Emmaline had taken a lot worse so she kept going. She moved to cup her cheeks and shuddered as she felt how many places her jaw was shattered.

Something hot and wet slid down one nostril and over her top lip. "Roxanne, your nose."

"It's nothing," she brushed Remus's concern away. "Come on. We need to flip her over." Everyone pulled away as Remus gave a twirl of his wand. Emmaline's limp body lifted and rotated in the air before gently setting back onto the floor.

Without a beat of hesitation, Roxanne tore the back much like she had the front. She pressed her flaming, aching hands along Emmaline's spine finding fractures and more bruises as she went. She slumped, arms curled into her chest, and panted out, "I…I need a…break." Swiping her sleeve under her nose, her eyes roved over the other witch's body. When she saw a dark splotch on own her sleeve she noticed with a kind of detachment that it was almost enough to be concerned about.

"I'm going to tell Kingsley what happened," Sirius muttered as he rose to his feet. He paused then amended his previous statement. "A drink first, I think, and then I'll call Kingsley."

Remus cleared his throat catching Roxanne's grey eyes as they snapped towards him. He gently pried her arm from her chest then easily unfurled her loose fist. Every inch of her palm was either blistered or raw. She tried to snatch it back but he quickly encircled his fingers around her fragile wrist. Again she marveled at how long they were; they could easily wrap around twice.

Softly he tapped the tip of his wand to the center muttering a few spells. There was little improvement. He frowned at this and tried again but quickly apologized at her slight wince.

"It's fine," she said as she withdrew the limb. "Thank you." Nervously she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that had escaped her braid and refused to meet his gaze. She could feel his eyes boring into her but she still didn't meet his gaze.

Instead hers trailed up the length of poor Emmaline Vance's body. She was breathing steadily, a very good sign considering that all but three of her ribs had been broken to some degree. The woman was lucky; if Sirius hadn't been there- well, there was no doubt it Roxanne's mind that she would've died. Died at the wands of Death Eaters. Those Death Eaters would've done so at the Lord Voldemort's command. The thought seized her lungs in a vice grip.

The green light flaring in the fireplace made her flinch. "Kingsley?" Sirius called. His voice was muffled as his head was deep within the flames. "Sorry to disturb you, but there was a situation with the orders you gave me." There was a pause. "Alright, see you in a minute."

Sirius rolled back on his heels and sighed. He stayed like this for a while then stood swiftly only to suddenly clutch at the mantle. He swayed dangerously. Remus was up in an instant to steady his friend. Whispering soothingly, he guided him over to a lumpy sofa.

"Mr. Black," Roxanne said, appearing in front of the men. She raised her pale brows and cocked her head to the right. "You're bleeding. All over that sofa, in fact. I daresay, your mother would be most disapproving of this." A tired smile twitched at her lips.

To say that his responding laugh was weak would be an understatement. "It isn't mine."

Wordlessly she bent over and prodded his deltoid. Sirius jumped a foot off the sofa and swore. "A little warning next time, if you please," he spat. Remus had to hide a small grin behind his fist.

She shrugged and extended her arm. In her hand was the vial of blood replenishing potion. "I don't know how many cuts you don't have, Mr. Black. You should take this just in case." When Sirius snatched it out of her hand Remus coughed to cover a chuckle.

Roxanne returned to Emmaline's side. By the time she was finished putting the jigsaw puzzle pieces of shattered femur, patella, fibula, tibula, and malleolus that was Emmaline's left leg together and then the right leg (which wasn't as bad), she had broken a sweat and was exhausted. When the irritation had spread up the inside of Roxanne's inner wrist, three fourths of the way through with Emmaline's wand arm, she considered calling it a night. She kept going, though, until she could no longer.

Neither of the men in the room noticed what had happened to Roxanne until Kingsley Shacklebolt pointed it out. He was dusting the ash off as he spoke to Sirius about the attack. How odd it was, that it happened in broad daylight in the middle of muggle London. Kingsley followed Sirius's gesture to where Emmaline Vance was "resting" and saw Roxanne kneeling over Emmaline, obviously unconscious.

As Kingsley casted a few diagnostic spells over Emmaline's body, the other two were trying to figure out what to do with Roxanne. Wake her? Leave her be? Sirius was in favor of the former. He prodded her shoulder, making her tilt, earning him a smack from Remus who rolled his eyes at his friend's childish ways. The half-scowl, half-pout Sirius directed at him didn't help his case any.

Kingsley cleared his throat to interrupt the light banter passing between the two Marauders. "Vance seems stable. I'll take her to St. Mungo's, put Aurors at her door. You did good work, Sirius. You, too, Remus." He gave them each a slow nod that echoed the timbre of his melodious voice.

"We weren't alone," Remus said, and Sirius gave a shrug and a nod to back this up. At Kingsley's apparent confusion, he explained, "Roxanne did most of the healing. Her legs… I wouldn't have been able to fix those."

He gave another slow nod, this one contemplative as he studied the top of the blonde's head. "I'll make sure to put that in my report." Sirius followed him to fireplace, thanking him for coming despite being at work. Kingsley assured him that interrupting work was no problem when it came to matters such as this. He tipped his shaven head to Remus. "Have a quiet evening. I hope we don't see each other until the next Order meeting."

"Agreed," the tired werewolf intoned. "Goodnight, King." Sirius echoed the sentiment. Kingsley levitated Emmaline's body into the fireplace with him then shouted "St. Mungo's!" They disappeared in a roar of green flames.

Once they were alone, they were faced again with the issue of what to do about Roxanne. Raking his hand through his dark shaggy hair, Sirius sighed. "I have to get the damned chain. She likes having the door closed when she's sleeping. You carry her and I'll carry the chain." Remus, too drained to come up with a good argument, and complied. Luckily for him Roxanne hadn't put on practically any weight at all since the Battle in the Department of Mysteries. She was feather-light and as limp as a wet rag in his arms.

Sirius pulled back the blanket so all Remus had to do was lay her down on the mattress. Not wanting to wake her, he did so as carefully as possible then covered her with blanket. She twitched, grumbled, and shifted partially onto her side. The movement revealed one of her hands. It was so violently red that Remus had to do a double take. He probed the meaty joint of her thumb and forefinger and she hissed as she snatched it closer to her chest, protecting it unconsciously. Remus considered healing it then remembered how astronomically that had failed in the drawing room earlier. Instead he tucked the blanket a little tighter around her thin form. As he and Sirius left her to sleep, he hoped that she would be better come morning.

It wasn't morning yet when Roxanne woke up. There were no windows in her room to indicate what time it was but it was half past two as she sat up in her bed, blanket banished to the floor long ago, trying to control her labored breathing. She shook her head as if to rid her brain of the images, the memories, that had rattled her awake. There were lots of red and green flashes of light, blood, a hissing whisper, and the distinct sense that she had no control over the turmoil happening to and around her.

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyelids, hoping to scrub out the images burned there, but hissed at the unpleasant stinging she experienced. Seeing the hideous redness and rawness and blisters there she numbly recalled the events of the previous evening.

Sirius shouting. Emmaline dying. Roxanne healing her. Remus showing up to help.

A swell of indecency rose in her belly as she thought about Remus's long dry fingers latched around her wrist, firm but gentle as if she would break under too much pressure, while he attempted to heal her. Experimentally she curled her fingers one by one. Though endearing, Remus's attempt had been no use. These burns were probably a punishment for using her magic while being shackled by the chain. She mentally cursed Dumbledore. It seemed like the kind of thing he would do to ensure the safety of his people.

After changing out of the sweat soaked dress into a clean light blue one. This dress had flowing bell-shaped sleeves long enough to hide the state of her hands. That taken care of she went to check on Emmaline. She wondered who sat with her through the night. To her horror, Emmaline was gone. The sole evidence of what had taken place were the pools and slashes of dark, rust colored stains on the carpet. Where was she? Had she failed to save the witch? Her stomach churned at the very idea.

Roxanne rushed through the dark house to the nearest bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. It felt good on her hands, too. She thought that she had done everything she could to help Emmaline. Did she? Was it enough? If it was, then where was Emmaline? She sunk down the wall, pulling her knees in and resting her chin on them. Her shoulders trembled with impending sobs. Her eyes grew hot, her vision blurred, and she let the tears come. She had failed. She had failed and now an innocent witch was dead because of that failure.

It was several hours later, when the tears had dried in sticky trails on her cheeks but the guilt still wrenching at her gut, that Remus found her. He hadn't noticed her at first being as that she had made herself as small as possible in the dark room. As he turned on the light though, he nearly jumped out of his skin. "What are you doing down there?" He asked, pressing against his chest to calm his racing heart.

She sniffled and wiped at her nose with the back of her sleeve. "I went to go check on Emmaline. She wasn't there." The unspoken question of Emmaline's fate hung heavily in the chilly air.

"She's fine," Remus said in that soothing tone of his. He lowered himself into a squat so that they were on the same level. "Kingsley took her to St. Mungo's. You were already asleep by the time he arrived." He leaned to keep her face in view when she turned away. "She's fine, really."

A sigh passed through her pale pink lips. She deflated slightly and offered a weak smile. Relieved, he returned it. "You shouldn't be sitting here, cold, in the dark," he said in an almost admonishing fashion, hoisting her up by her elbow. She came willingly. "Are you hungry?" He asked, rubbing his palms along her arms. The friction brought a little warmth to her goose-pimpled skin. She hadn't realized how cold she was. She gave a small nod. "Alright then. Go ahead to the kitchen. I'll be there in a minute. Okay?" She gave another nod, this one more confident.

He nudged her out of the bathroom so he could do his business then washed his hands. As he walked he thought about what Sirius might have in the cupboards. Molly had always done the cooking here. He wondered who would be taking over that responsibility now that she was gone.

"Honestly, Kreacher." A delicate, feminine voice floated out from the kitchen, sounding like the owner was border-line exasperated. "You are being rude. Is this how you want to represent the Ancient and Noble House of Black? Insulting your master's guests? Shirking your duties as a house-elf just to spite him?"

"Kreacher is good house-elf!" That croak was indignant. She had obviously hit a nerve. "It is Master Sirius who soils this House! With his werewolves and his mudbloods and his blood-traitor friends. Kreacher good house-elf! Loyal!"

Remus pushed the swinging door open, seeing an odd sight indeed. Kreacher had thrown himself to the ground and was in the middle of a mild (for him) temper tantrum while Roxanne stood over him, arms crossed over her stomach and mouth pursed. It was plain that her patience was wearing thin.

"If you're such a good house-elf then why did you run off to that Bella woman and send your master's godson to death? Oh, yes, I heard about that," Roxanne said to the now still Kreacher. "You wonder why your master treats you so bad. That's no excuse for him but you're not doing yourself any favors. You'll never get your head mounted on that wall with the others if act like this." She wagged a disapproving finger down at the teary-eyed house-elf. Apparently he hadn't thought about it that way before. It was true that his dearest ambition to be mounted with his predecessors.

She flipped her disheveled braid over her shoulder before continuing. "Now, I've had just enough of your attitude. _Please_ collect yourself of the dirty floor and then will you _please_ make Remus and I our breakfast?" Despite the two 'please's, it wasn't a request.

Slowly, old bones creaking, Kreacher picked himself off the floor. He wiped his snout with the back of her arm then croaked, "What would missus be liking to eat?"

"I don't know what Remus wants," Roxanne mused aloud. "I'll just have some toast with jam."

"That's fine. I'll have the same."

He chuckled at the way she whirled around, grey eyes wide. "Oh, you don't have to. I don't eat meat but you're more than welcome to have eggs and bacon if you like." She spoke with a slight rush, tucking her hands under her crossed arms.

He shook his head. "I'm a vegetarian. Kreacher, if you please, I'll have the same as Miss Roxanne here."

Kreacher gave a stiff bow, lips pressed in a line to keep the awful words in, and then snapped his fingers. The stove sparked to life, knives jumped to attention, and several objects flew out from the cupboards.

"We should probably go," Roxanne urged as she passed him to the door. "House-elves aren't fond of being watched while they work."

"No, we isn't," Kreacher grumbled as he retrieved a loaf of bread.

A short while later Remus and Roxanne were munching on blackberry jam slathered toast in companionable silence. He noticed the way Roxanne held her toast gingerly but didn't make a comment on it.

Remus took a swig of coffee to clear his throat. "So, Roxanne, have you always been a vegetarian?"

She cocked her head at him as she continued to chew. Once she swallowed she shook her head and said, "No. It wasn't until... after I married. There was this ceremony my husband wanted me to participate in. After that, I just couldn't do it anymore." She shrugged and frowned down at her plate.

"What happened?" He asked. He raised his brows over his mug to urge her to continue.

She took another bite of toast, taking her time chewing and then taking a long drink of her pumpkin juice. "I had to eat a, um, a horse's heart. Whole. Raw."

Remus choked on his coffee. He managed to sputter out "You what?"

She winced. "It was supposed to make me stronger." Her posture began to curl in on its self. "It was awful. I wasn't allowed to vomit but I almost did twice. Now I can't put meat in my mouth without gagging." She shuddered, covering her mouth instinctively.

"That's disgusting," he blurted quietly.

She gave one of her small, flighty laughs. "Yes, it was, hence the vegetarianism. Why did you do it?"

Thoughts stuck on the image of Roxanne gagging on a bloody heart, Remus blanched. "Do what now?"

"Become a vegetarian," she clarified, pushing her disheveled hair behind her ear.

"Oh, right," he said even quieter. At a more conversational volume he said, "I don't like the idea that something had to die just so that I could eat it. I've been that way since a child." He gave a small shrug.

Her head bobbed as she considered this. "How noble of you," she said at last without any traces of sarcasm. He just chuckled in response. He'd never heard someone react that way.

Roxanne retreated to her bedroom after she and Remus had finished. Now that her stomach was full, all she wanted was to swathe her self in blankets and sleep for an eon or two. She climbed into bed and fell asleep within moments of touching the pillow.

Only a few hours later she was awoken by the resounding bang of wood on wood. Her mind jumped to yesterday's events and that had her scrambling out of bed. To her dismay, it was none other that Albus Wulfric Brian Percival Dumbledore crowding her doorway and he looked none too pleased.


	8. Hospital Visit

"Dumbles," Roxanne greeted absently, pretending that untangling her legs and the chain from the blankets was a much more consuming task than it was.

Magic radiated off of him. It left an impression in the air that made many a man cower in the past. It threatened – no, promised swift punishment. "Mrs. Gaunt," he replied gravely. He gently closed the door then stalked towards her. "Let me see your hands."

"There's no need to be rude," she chastised. She rose from the bed and straightened out her modest light blue dress. With her pale complexion she stood out against her dark surroundings like a subdued star. Or a ghost. Or a memory.

"Your hands please."

She hesitated then offered one upturned palm. From the tips of her fingers and all around her nails to a couple of inches past the heel was red. The parts that weren't covered in blisters were raw. A few were scabbing over. This did not improve the visual.

Dumbledore examined it closely for a few tense moments. At long last he peered over his half-moon spectacles but there was no twinkle in his blue eyes. "What have you been up to, my Lady?"

Scowling slightly she retracted her arm and clenched loose fists by her sides. There was no way she could close them entirely without bursting the blisters or cracking the scrabs. As evenly as she could manage she said, "Nothing of negative consequence, I assure you."

"What have you been up to?" He repeated. Each word came out sharp and distinct like a blade's lick.

"I helped that woman, Emmaline Vance," she said with a sigh. "She was dying on the floor. Did you expect me to watch, idly standing by?"

He stared her down a long moment then stepped into her personal space. Roxanne's chin rose defiantly as she stood her ground. "How did you get around my charms?" His voice was lower than a whisper but somehow it filled the room.

The corners of her mouth tugging down she replied, "She was dying, Dumbles."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he spun on his heel. Abruptly he began to pace in the limited area of her bedroom. Roxanne watched, unsure of whether or not more argument was needed for a man like Albus Dumbledore. After a moment she pulled a hairbrush from her bedside table and began brushing out the mess her hair had become.

She had finished by the time Dumbledore come to a pause behind her. "Your motives may be pure, Roxanne. Then again, they may not be. How am I to know the difference?"

She pulled her much neater locks into a low ponytail then turned to face the glamorous wizard. She noticed that he wasn't looking like his normal immculate self. "Have you ever heard the French proverb 'faith can move mountains'?" She asked cocking her head.

He gave a curt nod. "Yes, I am familiar."

"Others having faith in you alone won't win you this war. You have to have faith in others. Me, for example."

Her blasé shrug infuriated him. The defiant tilt to her chin, the crossed arms, the bold stare; every little thing about her infuriated him. The fact that she was right was most definitely the worst. Her death had been a major hiccup in Voldemort's accension. If she could find someway around his charms, surely she could find a way to escape Grimmauld Place. It was wisest to use her to his advantage. But then they came back to the undeniable point of him not being able to trust her.

For what it was worth, she didn't trust him either.

"Was there anyone present who could legitimize your story?" He asked, returning to his usual serene state. He ran the wrinkled digits of his left hand through his snowy beard.

She nodded and wiggled her fingers carefully. The skin felt tight, much too sensitive. She wished that he would take the chain off her, just for a little while, so that her hands would heal. "Remus Lupin and Sirius Black and the house-elf Kreacher all assisted in some way. The former two will be able to testify. I doubt that the house-elf will be cooperative." She doubted that he would ever admit, short of his master ordering him to do so, to assisting blood-traitors like them save another.

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "I will speak with them shortly. I advise you to remain in your room for the time being." He turned for the door.

Her eyes widened. She knew that words unspoken were the most dangerous of all when it came to Dumbledore. In this case, it was his avoidance of a time frame. It meant that she wasn't allowed out until someone came to fetch her. Something to the same effect had been said shortly before she was thrown into a cell all those years ago. Then she had feared that they would let her rot in that filthy, dank cell. Now that fear returned, rearing its ugly head inside her chest and ripping at her innards.

"But I didn't do anything wrong!" She protested. It was in vain. He continued as if she hadn't spoken at all. Her entire body deflated as the tumbler clicked, locking her into the cramped room.

Time passed like molasses. Since she couldn't leave the dark colors seemed to suck what little dim light she had out of the room. She swathed herself in blankets but it didn't soothe her all that much. The fibers were too scratchy and smelled of her sweat from her previous nightmare. Every lump in the mattress was more pronounced. The walls closed in further and further the longer she sat there staring at the door.

It could've been a few hours or an entire day – she wasn't sure – when a knock startled the stifling silence out of place. She tried to speak but her throat was too dry and thick so she coughed a few times to clear it. "Enter," she called. Her favorite pink haired witch stuck her head in. "Tonks," she exclaimed.

"Wotcher, Rox," she greeted.

Roxanne took in her friend's full Auror garb as she stepped fully into view. "Are you going on another mission?" She asked, easing her numb legs over the side of the bed. She had been sitting for too long in the same position.

"Nope. I'm busting you out of here," Tonks said with a grin.

Roxanne's heart stuttered in her chest. "You're doing what now?" She asked in a scarce whisper.

The grin faltered somewhat. "Well, not permanately. We're going to St. Mungo's. Emmaline Vance has been asking for you."

"She has?" Surprise flittered through her. Emmaline hadn't been conscious for long. To think that she remembered anything with what had happened made Roxanne shudder. The poor, poor witch.

"Yeah. Dumbledore gave us permission to take you to her. Let's go," Tonks said brightly, grabbing at Roxanne's dangling hand. Hissing through her teeth, Roxanne snatched it to her chest protectively and her bell shaped sleeve fell away to reveal the redness. "Roxanne," Tonks paused, confusion and worry marring her usual sunny disposition. "What happened?"

She hesitated. "I don't know what you've been told about Emmaline Vance. She was here yesterday. I tried to help her and … this happened." She displayed both hands now.

The sight had Tonks wincing. "We'll get a Healer to take a look at those while we're at St. Mungo's."

Roxanne pulled her sleeves down over her hands and nodded absently. "If we have time. I assume we have a curfew?" She strode through doorway, Tonks catching up to walk in step. Roxanne's strides were longer than Tonks so the latter had to walk at a brisker pace to keep up.

"It's almost two now. Dumbledore wants us back here by half past three. He says that he doesn't want us to get caught up in the crowd," she explained.

"Good," she said, "that's good."

They ended up in the drawing room. Roxanne glanced over the rug to see the blood stains had been removed. In her mind, though, they were still fresh and crimson and leaking out of-

"Ready?"

Roxanne flinched at the sound of Sirius's deep, rough voice. She glanced down to see that he had the length of her chain gathered in one fist. "Yes. Should we disillusion that?" She asked, gesturing to the chain.

He looked down at it in distaste. "Uh, yeah. You're probably right. Moony? You've always been better at charms than me."

"Good idea," Remus said with a singular nod. He withdrew his wand from within his shabby robes and dragged the tip from Sirius's end to Roxanne's ankle. Unless you knew it was there and were looking directly at it you would definitely miss it. It was nearly invisible.

Roxanne twisted her foot this way and that and gave Remus a grateful smile. "Nicely done."

He gave the slightest of smiles in return. "Thank you, Roxanne." The strangest sensation fluttered in her stomach. Frowning, she pressed her knuckles above her bellybutton and grimaced at him.

"Well," Sirius said in an unnecessary boom and brought his hands together in a resounding 'clap'. He looked from Remus to Roxanne to Tonks. "Let's go."

"I'll go first," Tonks volunteered. She winked at Roxanne as she passed her to the fireplace then spun away in the green flames.

Remus waved towards the fireplace. "You two should go ahead. I'll be right along." Sirius agreed and stepped over the grate first, Roxanne squeezing in beside him. Even though she knew that he'd be right along like he said she gave a tiny wave anyways.

After the swirling, sucking, pinching side-effects of Floo travel had passed, Roxanne and Sirius stepped out into the marble hall. Putting a half foot of distance between them Roxanne began dusting the ash from her blue dress then her hair. She turned over her shoulder at the sound of the Floo activating behind her then grinned slightly as Remus appeared. The ash in his sandy blonde hair nearly matched the grey streaks already there, blending in further when he raked his fingers through to be rid of it.

"Let's go," Tonks chirped, linking her arm through Roxanne's. The two witches walked ahead with the two wizards trailing close behind. Roxanne was secretly glad that she was surrounded by the people she was most familiar with in this era. The sterility was unwelcome. She was used to the dirty cell before her death and the gloomy house of the past few weeks. This place was too sterile, too white, too subdued.

There was an Auror posted outside of Emmaline Vance's semi-private room, another inside the door. They both nodded to Tonks who greeted them brightly in turn. "Can you wait outside?" She asked the Auror standing inside the room, jerking her head in the direction of the open door. The Auror hesitated then complied. There were no other patients sharing the space currently so they were able to speak freely.

Roxanne approached the bed cautiously. Emmaline was lying there partially reclined with bandages covering all four limbs and a sheet bunched at her middle. Roxanne suspected that there were more bandages hiding underneath. Delicately she cleared her throat. "Feeling better, dear?"

"Yes, thanks to you," Emmaline said. It was obvious from her hair gathered in a haphazard topknot that she hadn't been granted a shower since being admitted to the hospital. The tendrils curling around her discolored face didn't have their usual silvery glitter.

Immediately she was shaking her head. "You should be thanking Sirius. He's the one that saved you from those – those Death Eaters." She tugging her sleeves down further and pushed her hair out of her face. It had been strange to hear them referred to as that instead of Knights of Walpurgis. She had to admit that this title suited the followers of Voldemort better.

Emmaline raised her brows. The motion pulled at a healing gash that reached for her temple. "I remember that. Roxanne, correct?" Roxanne nodded once, shifting closer to where she felt Tonks hovering nearby. Emmaline kept her large eyes directly trained on her though, not giving the Auror a second thought. "I remember you very clearly. You were telling me everything was going to be okay, right before I passed out. The very last thing I saw was your face."

"You shouldn't have been awake for that," Roxanne said shaking her head. "The process isn't always comfortable for the recipient, especially when the injuries were as extensive as yours. I'm sorry we couldn't finish." She gestured to the bandages.

"You did enough to save my life. I'm lucky to be here," insisted Emmaline.

"It was a group effort," Roxanne insisted in return.

Emmaline cracked a wry smile (as much of a one considering the multiple splits in her lips). "Humility suits you. Were you a Hufflepuff?"

A strange emotion flushed her cheeks. It felt a little like shame and a little like joy. Neither made sense. "No," she whispered at last, "Slytherin."

"Didn't you say that the Sorting Hat tried to put you in Hufflepuff?" Sirius piped up for the first time. Roxanne really wished he hadn't.

Behind her, Tonks gasped. "It did?" She practically squealed.

"It was a long time ago," Roxanne mumbled, shoulders pulling up like a guard. That didn't stop Tonks from throwing her arms around the other witch, nearly knocking them both forwards onto Emmaline. "Sorry," she said, pulling her hands from the bar she had grabbed to stop their fall.

"Yeah, sorry," Tonks echoed. Her arms still caged Roxanne, chin resting on her shoulder, so that even though her volume dropped Roxanne could hear her clear as day. "I can't believe you were almost a Hufflepuff! Why didn't you tell me?"

Twisting her arm in Tonks's grip, she patted her exuberant friend. "Because it was a long time ago," she repeated.

"I bet you would have made an excellent Hufflepuff," Emmaline mused, giving her an affirming drop of her chin.

"Can we talk about something else?" Her tone came out a bit sharper than she intended so in a softer one she continued, "Have you had any problems, Emmaline? May I call you Emmaline or would you prefer Miss Vance?"

"Emma's fine," she informed her lightly then continued with a stiff shake of her head. "And no, I haven't had any problems. There's an Auror at my door both day and night. I doubt anything would happen. This is St. Mungo's after all. If this place isn't safe, where is?"

This struck Roxanne. "Nowhere," she deadpanned.

Emmaline blinked. "What do you mean?"

Slowly, she shook her head. She couldn't believe… Emmaline was old enough to have participated in the last Wizarding War. How could she not understand? "We are never safe. Not you, not me, not the enemy, not the Muggles, not Light families or Dark or any riding the fence. Strategically speaking, this would be a prime place of attack."

Discomfort strained the air. Remus cleared his throat to disrupt it but this worked only marginally. "I don't believe that's something Emmaline wants to hear right now," he stated, a frown tugging at the ends of his mustache.

"It's the truth though," Roxanne retorted, turning around to face him. Her chin lifted defiantly as her hands flew to her hips. He looked taken aback by her vehemence but she pressed on anyways. "This is war. This isn't a game where you have set boundaries that both parties agree to follow. There aren't rules. I know for a _fact_ that the Dark Lord will do anything – and I do mean anything, Messer Lupin – for victory. I am not going to lie to this woman who nearly died last night _for this war_ by telling her that she's safe. It would be an insult."

Sirius chuckled slightly. Anger flared in Roxanne's chest; did he think this was funny? Death isn't funny and neither is war. She has had tastes of both and could confidently say that they weren't. It wasn't fun in the slightest.

"Life of the party, you are," he joked, winking cheekily at her. Remus scoffed and rolled his eyes but there was a definite grin threatening to break loose. Tonks giggled. Even Emmaline spared a chuckle. They were all glad that the tension following Roxanne's speech had broken.

Roxanne rolled her eyes. "Perhaps we should be going. Emma needs her rest."

"Perhaps you're right," Emmaline agreed, suppressing a yawn.

A softly grinning Tonks reached over to squeeze one of Emmaline's bandage-free toes. "Feel better. We'll come to visit you soon," she promised. Remus, Roxanne, and Sirius all nodded behind her.

Remus shut the door gently once they were all out, as if Emmaline were already sleeping and he didn't want to disturb her. Sighing, Roxanne made for the direction they had arrived. The slither of metal on ceramic caught her attention and she noticed the charm Remus had placed was beginning to fade – rapidly. The sooner they left this sad sterile place the better.

"Where do you think you're going, missy?"

Stopping dead in her tracks, Roxanne raised her pale brows in surprise at her pink-haired friend. "The Floo is this way, isn't it?" She asked jabbing her thumb over her shoulder.

She scoffed playfully. "Did you think I forgot? We need to get those hands of yours checked out." She gestured to where Roxanne was once again tugging her bell sleeves down.

Worry crumpled Remus's brow as he faced her. "They're still not better?"

"How come I'm the only one who doesn't know what's going on?" Sirius demanded, pouting petulantly. Roxanne wouldn't have been surprised if he stomped his foot right then.

Defiantly, Roxanne tucked her hands under her armpits. "It's not an issue of any importance. _R_ _eally_. I'm fine."

"No you are not fine," said Tonks, real frustration starting to leak into her voice. "Your hands look like overcooked cheese pizza." Behind her, Sirius scrunched his face in disgust.

There was a missed beat as clear confusion crossed across her face. She cocked her head to the side. "What's peat-zah?"

Sirius opened his mouth to explain but Tonks cut him off. "Nope, uh-uh. Changing the subject isn't going to get you out of this. Come on." She latched onto Roxanne's elbow and yanked her in the direction opposite of where she had been going. Roxanne, knowing that she had been bested for now, looked over her shoulder longingly to where she knew the empty Floo grates were waiting.


End file.
